


Ideas

by Glitched_Fox



Series: Concepts and Creations [1]
Category: Sanders Sides, Thomas Sanders
Genre: Gen, If You Squint - Freeform, Implied/Referenced Anxiety Attacks, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Not In Much Detail At All Tho, Not Really Character Death, Nothing Here Is Very Graphic, Pranks Does A Thing Where He’s In Pain But I Don’t Know How To Tag That
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-11
Updated: 2018-04-11
Packaged: 2019-04-20 22:00:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14270445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glitched_Fox/pseuds/Glitched_Fox
Summary: Four Ideas, Four Concepts, and one cowardly Creator.---Creativity is the reason the characters in Thomas's vines exist. In fact, he's the reason Thomas's vines themselves exist. He creates the Concept for each and every one. Sometimes, the more popular and powerful ones stick around.





	Ideas

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by discussions in the TSCommunity Discord and some posts on tumblr pointing out that Roman, as Creativity, technically created Thomas's mindscape.

“Princey, is this yours?” Morality asks, tilting his head slightly. Creativity perks up at the mention of his nickname, changing his path to walk to the other Side.

“Is what mine?” Creativity asks, peering over Morality’s shoulder. Morality’s hands were cupped, a small spark of light hovering in them. Creativity grins, pupils flickering to stars and back in his excitement. “Dad, you found an Idea!”

“A what-now?” Morality blinks, confused.

Creativity holds out his hands, accepting the spark. “An Idea! It’s what we started out as. Soon enough it’ll grow and form into something better!” The stars in his eyes return.

“A new Side?”

“Probably not. Sides don’t require me to nurture them. This guy--” Creativity points to the spark-- “will probably just be a Concept.”

“Concept?”

“Something that represents parts of Thomas- or maybe something he’s inspired by- but isn’t enough to be its own Side.”

“That sure is a lot of words, kiddo.” Creativity scoffs, and Morality nudges him playfully.

\------

Creativity wakes up one morning to find a starry-eyed kid staring down at him in wonder. Noticing the Side has seen him, the kid squeaks and attempts to scamper away. There’s a dull thud as he falls off the bed. Creativity sits up, leaning over the side of his bed to look at the kid. The kid, now on the ground, smiles nervously and waves. Creativity smiles back.

“Hello there,” Creativity greets softly.

"Hi.” The kid hesitates, then says, “Who are you?”

“My true name is Roman, but I usually go by Creativity or Princey.”

“Oh. It’s nice to meet you, Princey.”

“You too.”

Another hesitation, then, “Who- no, what am I?”

“You were an Idea,” Creativity explains, “now you’re a Concept. Do you know who you are now?”

The kid’s brows furrow in concentration. He climbs back onto the bed, sitting cross-legged across from Creativity. After a minute, a Sharpie appears in his hand, and a rectangular piece of cardstock on his lap. He uncaps the marker, then scribbles a few words onto it. Satisfied, he recaps the Sharpie and it disappears. He picks up the paper and holds it to his chest. A piece of tape appears, securing the cardstock in place.  


The makeshift name tag reads:  


imagination  
(inner kid)  


Creativity nods in approval. “Well, Imagination, can I introduce you to the others?”  


Imagination nods quickly, smiling with his starry eyes sparkling.

\------

Imagination bounds into Creativity’s room, where the Side is adjusting his sash in front of the mirror. Creativity turns his head as Imaj enters. Creativity stiffles a laugh, spinning around and landing in a rather princely stance. Imaj, who’s wearing the armor he Imagined up when he first pretended to be Creativity’s knight, falls to one knee in a bow, one arm crossed over his chest.  


Creativity smiles. “Rise, my knight.” Imaj obeys, springing to his feet.  


“M’lord, there’s something you should see,” Imaj says, a bit of serious creeping into his knightly voice. Creativity frowns slightly, tilting his head in confusion. Imaj grabs his hand, leading him down the hall.  


The two arrive in the commons to find Logic and Morality standing off to the side. In the center of the room are two glowy figures- half-formed Ideas, Creativity realizes. They’re mostly made of light and have almost no detail. Despite this, it’s clear that there’s two of them, and they’re vague human shapes.  


Anxiety, of all people, is here. He’s standing close to the Ideas- much too close for Creativity to be comfortable. Anxiety reaches out a cautious hand towards the Ideas and Creativity is at his side in an instant. He smacks the Anxious Side’s hand away from the Ideas.  


“Don’t touch them!” Creativity reprimands, “You’ll ruin them before they can even finish forming!”  


Anxiety appears to recede into his jacket. “I-I’m sorry, I just wanted to know what they’re like-”  


“You shouldn’t care!” Creativity huffs, pushing Anxiety. Anxiety stumbles, tears starting to form in the corner of his eyes. “Oh, so now you’re gonna cry? I’m sorry that I’m just trying to protect Thomas’s mindscape, Hot Topic!”  


Anxiety’s breaths have become short and quick. He bites his lip, then flips up his hood, shoving his way past Creativity and toward his room.  


Morality watches Anxiety go, with a look of concern on his face. “Princey, that wasn’t very nice.”  


“Him hurting the Ideas wasn’t very nice!”  


“Uh, Princey,” Imaj says. His armor has disappeared. “There’s something wrong with the Idea.”  


Creativity turns back to the Ideas quickly. One of the Ideas has fallen to his knees, hugging himself. The light of his shoulder has turned dark, black and purple starting to crawl across and threaten to consume the entirety of his golden-tinted form. The other Idea kneels in front of him in concern. She reaches out a hand, then lowers it. She looks back to Creativity, and he can almost hear her pleading for him to do something.  


He steps forward, smiling softly and reassuringly at the Idea who looked to him for help. He sits next to the corrupted Idea, placing his hand over the darkened shoulder. Immediately, a wave of golden light flashes from Creativity's hand, causing the black and purple to disappear.  


The second Idea perks up, looking from Creativity to the first Idea. The first Idea shrugs and is tackled in a hug from the second Idea. Creativity stands up, offering his hands. Both Ideas glance at each other, then take one of Creativity's hands, standing up. Imaj bounds ahead of the trio, already knowing they're going to Creativity's room.

\------

Creativity is awoken by an airhorn blasting in his ear. He starts, sitting up quickly, his hair tousled. He hears the sound of laughter, and manages to catch a glimpse of a boy jumping off the bed, the airhorn in his hand, and running out the door.  


Creativity gets up, snapping his fingers. His pajamas transform into his daily wear. He runs a hand through his hair, smoothing it, then turns to Imaj.  


"What was that?" Creativity asks.  


Imaj shrugs as he rolls out of his bed. "Well, I would say that it looks like your Ideas have formed."  


Creativity laughs for no real reason as he wanders out of his room and towards the commons, hoping to find the two Concepts. He goes down the hall, stride unbroken.  


Or, it would have been, if he hadn't got caught on an invisible tripwire. He yelps in surprise, sitting up and brushing the dust off his shirt.  


"You should burn," a girl who has appeared in front of him states, deadpan.  


Creativity blinks in confusion. She grins suddenly. "Burn me a CD of your amazing singing voice!" She giggles as she jumps past him and over the tripwire, taking off down the hall. Creativity stands up, starting down the hall again.  


He stops in the doorway, noting that the two children are sitting at the coffee table. The boy is leaning toward the girl, telling her something. He has the paper taped to his shirt already, but Creativity can't see it well enough to read it.  


She laughs, and he leans back. A piece of cardstock appears on the table, along with a Sharpie. She uncaps the marker, writing down her name. She holds it up, and it tapes itself to her shirt.  


Creativity takes this moment to step into the room. Both children jump to their feet at the sight of him, and now Creativity gets a good view of their labels.  


The boy's is:  


PRANKS  
(with friends!)  


And the girl's is:  


Missy  
(misleading compliments)  


"Pranks and Missy, huh?" Creativity comments.  


"Yes, sir!" Missy says, "I'm sorry that Pranks so rudely woke you up with that airhorn. He's awful."  


Pranks narrows his eyes, as if waiting for the catch.  


"Awfully good at what he does."  


Pranks laughs. "Thank you, Missy."  


Creativity rolls his eyes. "Have you two met the others yet?"  


Both their eyes immediately flicker to stars. "There's more people to mess with?" Pranks asks. He turns to Missy, cupping a hand and whispering something to her. She nods. He grins, shrugging off his jacket.  


Creativity winces. Pranks is wearing a tank top, revealing that his entire left shoulder is covered with something that looks a like a black bruise. It doesn't go too far down his arm, but it disappears into his shirt, and Creativity wonders how far down Pranks' back the discolored patch runs.  


"Pranks, what is this?" Creativity asks, stepping over to Pranks. He motions to the boy's shoulder. "Does it hurt?"  


Pranks frowns. "Nope; doesn't hurt at all. I think it's like a birthmark or something?"  


"I think it's weird," Missy comments.  


"Yeah, kind of-"  


"Weirdly cute."  


Pranks rolls his eyes. "I should've known."  


Missy laughs. Pranks lunges for her, playfully, and she darts away, sticking her tongue out at him.

\------

"Roman!"  


Creativity lifts his head, snapping to attention immediately. It's not every day someone calls him by his true name- something must be wrong. He twirls around, catching Imagination as the Concept barrels into him. "Imaj? What is it?"  


"Something's wrong with Pranks!"  


Creativity frowns, running after Imaj as the latter dashes out of the room.  


They find Pranks in the hallway, collapsed on his knees, hugging himself. Creativity is suddenly vividly reminded of when Pranks and Missy were Ideas- the scene looks just like that, in fact. Missy in kneeling in front of him, seemingly scared to touch him. Pranks' breathing is labored; he looks to be in pain. Missy looks up at Creativity, eyes begging for him to do something.  


It would be an exact replica of the scene from when the two were Ideas- heck, Logic and Morality are here too, standing in the doorway. All that's missing is…  


Creativity drops to his knees next to Pranks. The Side reaches out to hold Pranks, and the boy cries out in pain. Creativity winces, placing a hand on the mark covering Pranks' shoulder. It feels like it's freezing levels of cold. Creativity's light washes over Pranks, attempting to soothe him, but there's only so much it can do. He looks up at Logic and Morality, golden-orange eyes glowing with power and anger.  


"Where's Anxiety?" he questions, voice dripping with venom.  


"O-Over here." Everyone, except for Pranks, turns toward the voice of Anxiety, who had previously gone unnoticed in the shadows.  


"What are you doing to him?" Creativity's voice is accusing.  


Anxiety's eyes widen in surprise. "Nothing! Not on purpose anyway!"  


Creativity starts to say something, but cuts himself off as Missy stands, her expression darkening. "Pranks is in pain because of you?" she asks, her tone cold and calculating.  


"No!" A beat of hesitation. "Yes? Maybe?"  


Missy lifts her head. Her amber eyes are glowing. "I'd think of some new joke, but I don't need to." She steps past Creativity and Pranks, walking right up to Anxiety. "Not when there's a punchline right in front of me."  


Then she punches him in the stomach.  


"Missy!" Morality cries, darting over. He grabs her, and she immediately starts struggling against his grip. She's crying and yelling insults, most of the misleading variety, and mildly disturbing threats at Anxiety, who is quickly backing away from the angered Concept.  


"Get out of here, Anxiety," Creativity growls. Anxiety glances between Creativity and Missy, then, apparently deciding being here is more trouble than it's worth, disappears. The room becomes a little brighter, and Pranks finally relaxes under Creativity's touch.

\------

"We're Fading, aren't we?" Pranks asks Creativity at one point. It's probably the only time Creativity ever hears Pranks be completely serious. Creativity looks at the boy sadly, noting the duller colors of his clothing and eyes, and the little tears on the cardstock that held his name.  


"I'm afraid so, Pranks."  


"I don't wanna go dormant."  


"No one does."  


Pranks climbed up onto Creativity's bed in order to sit next to him. "Does it hurt?"  


"Not at all. It's like falling asleep."  


There’s a minute where neither of them speaks. “Will-” Pranks starts, then stops. He takes a breath, then continues, “Will Missy be with me?”  


Now that’s a good question. Creativity himself had never Faded, and he isn’t sure. He can only imagine one is alone after going dormant- then again, Missy and Pranks appeared together as duel Ideas, formed together, and they’ve been inseparable since.  


“I don’t know,” Creativity says softly, “but I don’t think you’ll be lucid enough to care.”  


Pranks looked at Creativity as if the Side had said some serious offense. “I don’t wanna be alone.”  


Another minute of silence. Creativity shifts and Pranks takes the opportunity to lean into Creativity’s offered hug. Creativity holds Pranks close, honestly not caring about the boy’s muffled sobs.  


“Roman?”  


“Yes, Pranks?”  


“I love you.”  


Creativity rubs Pranks’ back, his hand briefly brushing across the mark on his shoulder. “I love you too, Pranks.”  


The first thing Creativity does when he wakes up the next morning is walk across the room to the kids’ beds. He’s not surprised when he finds Imaj’s to be empty, or when he finds Missy and Pranks’ bunks both made as if they had never slept in them at all.

\------

Creativity wakes up one morning to find someone sitting in Pranks’ bed. It had been discarded for over a year now, and as Creativity steps closer he realizes that it is Pranks. His hair is tousled, his shirt worn out, his label ripped and crumpled, and it looks like he hasn’t slept properly since he Faded, but it’s still Pranks.  


“Pranks, oh my goodness!” Creativity steps onto the bottom bunk in order to peer over the top, clinging to the railing for support. “You’re Awake!”  


Pranks blinks, then starts laughing. “I am! I’m Awake!” He excitedly- excitedly enough for his eyes to flash as stars- jumps off the bed, somehow managing to not twist his ankle as he lands. Creativity steps off the bunk, smiling at the boy. “Missy! Missy, we-” he falters, glancing at the still-empty bottom bunk. “Missy?”  


Creativity hesitates. “Pranks-”  


“Where’s Missy?”  


Creativity sighs, then kneels in order to be eye level with Pranks. The Side holds out his arms in an offer for a hug. “Honey, you Woke Up because of something Thomas did. I think he posted that prank call video today. Missy has no Inspiration to Wake Up.”  


Pranks leans into Creativity’s arms, starting to cry. “I don’t want to be alone.”  


Creativity says, indignantly, “Pranks, you aren’t alone! You have me, and the other Sides-”  


“Really? Logic hates what I stand for, and I can’t get near Anxiety without collapsing in pain.” He rubs his dark shoulder. “You and Morality are the only people who bother to pay attention to me, and I love you both but- but-” Pranks can’t finish his sentence, breaking down in Creativity’s grasp.  


“But it isn’t the same without Imaj or Missy,” Creativity finishes for him. Pranks nods. “It’s alright, Pranks. I don’t know what I’d do if I ever lost you for good.”  


Pranks buries his face in Creativity shirt and Creativity doesn’t care that the piece of clothing is being temporarily ruined. Pranks falls asleep next to Creativity in the Side’s bed that night.  


The next morning, Creativity shivers, noting the lack of warmth and weight against his chest. Pranks was gone.  


There isn’t much else Creativity could have really expected.

\------

Almost a year later, Pranks appears sitting in his bed again. Creativity greets him with a smile, helping him down from the bed. Pranks glances at the bottom bunk, hope daring to cross his face. It’s quickly extinguished when he sees the perfectly folded blankets.  


“Princey?”  


“Hm?”  


“Are everyone’s rooms still in the same spots?”  


Creativity frowns. “Yes. Why?”  


Pranks rubs his dark shoulder. “Curiosity.”  


A few hours later, Pranks grabs his jacket, starting to leave Creativity’s room.  


Creativity looks up from his laptop. “Where are you going, Pranks?”  


Pranks smiles innocently. “To the commons. I’ll be back soon.” Creativity nods, returning to his scrolling.  


By the time Creativity realizes where Pranks has gone, he knows that the child has already forced himself into dormancy again.

\------

Roman pokes at the food on his plate. Patton, who is cleaning up, frowns at the Creative Side. “What’s wrong, kiddo?” Roman shrugs, continuing to push his scrambled eggs around.  


“Check the date, Patton,” Virgil says, looking up from his phone briefly.  


Patton glances at the calendar, confused. “January 3rd?”  


“He always gets like this during January. You haven’t noticed?”  


“Oh! Yeah…” Patton rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “Isn’t it because-”  


Roman finally speaks up, saying bitterly, “It’s the month they Faded.”  


Virgil hums, returning to his browsing of Tumblr.  


Patton walks over, resting a hand on Roman’s shoulder. “Hey. It’s alright to be sad, Roman. I know you were close to them-”  


“They were practically my children, Patton!” Roman cried, eyes glowing slightly with passion. “What would you do if- if one of us-” He cuts himself off, dropping his fork and slouching, shoulders shaking.  


Before anything else can happen, Patton drapes his arms around Roman in a hug. “Do you want us to do anything for you?” he asks softly.  


Roman shakes his head, pushing himself away from the table and standing up. “I’d just like some time to myself if that’s alright.”  


Patton nods, waving goodbye as Roman begins to walk down the hallway. On the way to his room, Logan walks up to Roman.  


“Roman, do you have a moment?” the Logical Side asks. His hands are cupped around something. Roman eyes him curiously.  


“I guess. What do you have there?”  


“It’s what I wanted to talk to you about, actually.” Logan lifts his hands, opening them to reveal a little spark of light. “I found this and figured you’d like to have it. Ideas are your area of expertise, correct?”  


Roman’s pupils have changed to stars, and Logan smiles as he hands Roman the spark. “Oh, Logan! Thank you!”  


“Yes, well, I’m not very good with Ideas, so.” Logan shrugs, adjusting his glasses. “Go do your thing, I suppose.”  


Roman cups the spark close to his chest, thanking Logan once again as he darts down the hall to his room.

\------

Roman groans, rolling onto his side. He blinks tiredly, attempting to clear his vision enough to read the analog clock on his nightstand.  


3:50 A.M., the red numbers blink at him. Roman sighs again. It is far too early for him to be awake. He presses his face into his pillow. “I just wanna go back to sleep,” he groans.  


“Wow. Needy much?”  


Roman perks up immediately. That’s not a voice he recognizes, so…  


He sits up, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He blinks, and the figure leaning on his bed comes into focus. “You formed,” Roman notes.  


“Yup.”  


“How do you feel?”  


“Good question.” The newly formed Concept makes a show of stretching out his arms, examining his clothing, taking off his shades and looking at his reflection in them- the whole shebang. “I think,” he starts, putting his sunglasses back on, “I need a Sharpie.”  


Roman motions to his nightstand. As the Concept walks over, a Sharpie and a piece of cardstock appear, waiting. The Concept picks up the Sharpie and hesitates a moment, before writing:  


SLEEP  


As the paper taps itself to Sleep’s shirt, Roman addresses the newly named Concept. “Nice to meet you, Sleep. I’m Roman. Or you can call me Creativity, or Princey, like people used to.”  


“Why’d they start calling you by your real name?” Sleep has the decency to take off his boots before flopping on the bed next to Roman.  


Roman shrugs. “Well, I would introduce you to the others, but it’s four in the morning, and none of us want to be up and about this early.” When there’s no response, Roman turns to look at Sleep, only to discover the Concept has… well, fallen asleep. Roman sighs.  


Cautiously, he reaches out and removes Sleep’s sunglasses, setting them on the nightstand. Then, he throws a couple blankets over him. Satisfied, Roman himself lays down on his pillow, closing his eyes and letting the darkness of normal sleep take him.

\------

Sleep struggles against Roman’s grip. “Hold still, please,” Roman mutters.  


“Okay, Kaa,” Sleep spits back. He manages to escape and starts to make a run for it. Roman raises a hand, then curls it into a fist. Sleep freezes. With a sigh, Roman steps over to the Concept.  


First, he removes Sleep’s shades. Sleep glares at Roman, though the rest of his body is still frozen. “You may speak,” Roman states.  


“What’cha doin’ to me now?” Sleep asks. Roman doesn’t respond. Instead, he grabs the cardstock taped to Sleep’s shirt and rips it off. Sleep gasps and winces as if Roman had cut him. “Seriously, Philip. What are you doing?”  


Roman tilts Sleep’s head back a little, a pen-like thing appearing in the Creative Side’s hand. “Something that I should’ve done to the ones who came before you,” Roman says, “I won’t make the same mistake for the fourth time.” He presses the tip of the pen-thing to Sleep’s neck and slowly, elegantly, neatly writes five letters.  


He finishes finally, and the pen-thing disappears. The ink is permanent, and is more than just a tattoo. Roman nods. He makes a dismissive hand gesture, and Sleep unfreezes. He rubs his chest where the paper had been taped, wincing slightly. “Girl, what did you do to me?”  


“I Named you.”  


“Named me?” Sleep touches his new marking cautiously. “Do you do that to everyone?”  


“I should.”  


“Did you do that do yourself?”  


Roman pulls down his shirt collar, revealing the word ‘Creativity’ written in perfect, flowing cursive across his collarbone. “Logan’s is on the back of his neck, right at the base. Patton’s is on his upper left arm, and I believe Virgil’s is in-between his shoulder blades. Any more questions?”  


Sleep’s eyes narrow as he grabs his shades from Roman. “Yeah, one: what’s my Name?”  


“You should know it yourself.”  


Sleep hesitates, thinking. Then he slides his sunglasses on and smirks. “My name is Remy.”

\------

The four main Sides are huddled in the doorway, looking at something in the commons. Remy approaches behind them, announcing his presence with a yawn. He holds what appears to be Starbucks coffee. 

“Hey girls,” he greets.  


“Shut up, Remy,” Roman replies.  


“Yo, Kaa. What’s going on over here?”  


“I’m not Kaa,” Roman growls, pointing toward the commons, “He is.”  


“Deceit?”  


“You know him?”  


“Aw yeah, girl, we’re like, total besties.” Remy’s voice drips with sarcasm. Deceit is leaning back in a chair, his feet propped up on the coffee table. He’s shuffling cards and grinning like he knows that none of the Sides will try to mess with him. To top it all off, his yellow and black eyes are glowing.  


“Hey, Eric?”  


“Yes, Remy?”  


Remy’s already taking off his shades and hooking them on his shirt. “Do I have your permission to try and do something to this b- jerk?”  


Roman hesitates, then shrugs and says, “Sure, why not.”  


“Hold this.” Remy pushes past Roman, shoving the half-empty Starbucks into his hand.  


Confidently, Remy strides over to Deceit, walking up behind him and draping his arms over Deceit’s shoulders. He rests his chin on top of Deceit’s head. “Hello, Nagini.”  


Deceit blinks, attempting to look up at Remy without actually moving. “What do you want, Sleep?” He hisses on the 'S' in Sleep.  


“Oh, haven’t you heard? I have a true name now.”  


“I care so much.”  


“Didn’t think so.” Remy closes his glowing gray eyes.  


Deceit blinks again. “What are-” He suddenly loses his balance on the tilting chair, causing himself and Remy to fall to the ground.  


A minute passes and neither moves or speaks. Around this time, Roman realizes.  


“Oh my stars; Remy made Deceit fall asleep.”

\------

Pranks is back again. Remy shakes Roman awake. “Yo, Naveen, who’s this kid?”  


Roman yawns, sitting up. “Who’s what kid?”  


“Me.” Pranks climbs onto Roman’s bed, standing over him.  


Roman grins. “Pranks! You’re back!” Pranks shrugs. Remy is still confused. Roman rolls out of bed, changing his clothes with a snap of his fingers. “Pranks, this is a newer Concept, Sleep. His true name is Remy. Remy, this is Pranks, who’s honestly quite a bit older than you. He’s mostly dormant nowadays, but the prank call videos keep bringing him back. I… never Named him.”  


“Why don’t you just Name the kid now?” Remy asks.  


Pranks and Roman answer simultaneously, “It doesn’t work like that.”  


Remy sighs and shrugs. “Welp. I tried.” He’s eyeing the black mark covering Pranks shoulder, but chooses not to comment.  


“Roman?”  


Roman turns toward the sound of his name. Logan is standing in the doorway. “What is it, Lo?”  


“Can I borrow you for a minute? There’s a project I would like your input on.”  


Roman turns to Remy and Pranks with a silent question. “Go ahead,” Pranks murmurs.  


As Roman walks off with Logan, Pranks shifts his position so that he’s sitting on the bed.  


Remy sits down next to him. An awkward silence follows. “So, uh,” Remy says finally, lowering his shades to make eye contact with the boy, “is it okay if I ask about--” he motions vaguely to Pranks shoulder-- “this?”  


Pranks nods, thinking for a moment about how to phrase his answer. “When I was an Idea, Missy- oh, she’s another Concept. She and I formed at the same time and… I miss her. Anyway, when Missy and I were Ideas, we got caught in this, like, partly-formed state? Not enough to know who or what we were, but enough to have emotion. Roman hasn’t told me the whole story, but supposedly Anxiety-”  


“Virgil?”  


Pranks tilts his head, confused. “That’s his name?”  


“Yeah. Apparently, he’s a bit more open than he used to be.”  


“Huh. Well, anyway, Anx- Virgil touched me or something and I got corrupted. Roman healed me, but when I formed I had this mark and if I go near Virgil it starts hurting real bad and. Yeah.” He trails off.  


“Huh.” There’s more uncomfortable silence. “What do you do for fun?”  


Pranks’ eyes light up, pupils flickering to stars. “Oh, y’know. I’m not the personification of Thomas’s pranks vines for nothing. Missy and I used to have to so much fun around here- I wonder if my old notebooks are still here.”  


For some odd reason, seeing Pranks so excited and happy as he jumps off the bed makes Remy happy, too. Pranks give a little cry of triumph. He climbs halfway down the ladder, then jumps the rest of the way, two decorated notebooks tucked under his arm.  


He grabs Remy’s wrist, forcing the technically-younger Concept to stand, dragging him out the door. “Come on! We can do so much, even if we do only have a little time!”  


Remy smiles, pulling out of Pranks’ grip and instead following the boy of his own free will.  


Now, Remy isn’t surprised when he finds Pranks’ bunk empty the next morning, but he can’t help the twinge of sadness that runs through him, causing his eyes to be slightly duller than normal.  


Remy wakes up Roman with the airhorn Pranks’ had gifted Remy, just for old time’s sake.  


\------

“Remy? Are you awake?”  


Remy opens one eye in the darkness, the glow of it barely enough to illuminate Roman as he leans over the Concept. “No, whatever would give you that idea?”  


“Thought so- I couldn’t fall asleep.”  


Remy now opens both eyes in an attempt to use the gray glow as a nightlight to see by. “Sorry.”  


“It’s alright. Thanks for not sneaking out tonight.”  


Remy sits up, and Roman sits down next him on Remy’s bed. Roman sighs. Remy looks at him. “What’s wrong, Flynn?”  


Roman’s golden-orange eyes reflect the light of Remy’s gray ones, and Remy can see the sadness in the Creative Side’s. “You and Pranks had fun together, huh?”  


“Yeah, I guess? That was like a week ago, so-”  


“I should have Named him. He’d be able to stay longer if I had Named him.” Roman slouches forward, breathing starting to turn in the ragged pattern of crying. “Him and Missy and Imaj- I almost did Name Imaj, but I was a coward and I didn’t want to mess up and I didn’t know if it was the same process for Concepts as it was when I did it to myself, and I know the others did it to themselves too, but-” he trails off, words incoherent through his sobs.  


Remy hums reassuringly. He’s not good at consoling people and would usually take this as his cue to leave but, dang it, Roman had done so much for him- he had given him life. “Oh, Roman. It’s alright.” Remy spread his arms, taking the Side into a hug.  


“I’m sorry,” Roman mutters.  


“You don’t have to be sorry,” Remy replies, “cause it seems like you’re hurting more than I am.” Roman takes a deep, shuddering breath, and Remy rubs his back. “Do you wanna sleep?”  


“Y-Yes.”  


“Alright.” Remy hums soothingly, his eyes glowing a bit brighter.  


“Hey, Remy?” Roman’s words are slurred as he struggles against Remy’s power long enough to speak.  


“Yeah, Ali?”  


“I love you. And thanks.”  


Remy leans back and lays down, dragging Roman with him. “Right back atcha, Princey.”


End file.
